Philosophical Revelation from Staring at a Water Dispenser's Heating Light for Three Minutes

This afternoon, when I went to get water from the dispenser, the red heating light had just turned on. A normal, productive person would probably have turned back to their seat and done something productive, but I didn't. I chose to stand there, arms crossed, staring intently at that faint red light, seriously contemplating when it would finally switch to green. When people are extremely bored, their brainwaves enter a state of near-metaphysical resonance. I looked at the limescale on the metal panel and started calculating the kinetic energy of the water molecules violently colliding inside, even trying to accelerate this physical process with my mind. The surrounding air seemed to freeze, and people occasionally passing by in the hallway probably thought I was performing some deep life meditation on the machine. Actually, no. My mind was blank, with only the enormous, meaningless question of 'How long is this going to take?' hanging there. The moment I finally couldn't stand it anymore and reached out to just get some warm water, it clicked and turned green. In that moment, I suddenly had an epiphany: Some things move slower the more you stare at them, but the world suddenly starts working the moment you decide to give up. Walking back to my seat after getting the water, I had even forgotten whether I was originally thirsty or just trying to escape reality.